Bad Habits
by tradingforeverx
Summary: He hated the way you held hands with your friends in the hall. The way you smiled at practically everyone you saw except him drove him insane. You were a bad habit to him, but he couldn’t seem to stop, and he hated you for it.


**AN:** Okay, well, hello. I don't know why but I can't stop these oneshots. And I haven't really done an AN on them because for some reason my computer wouldn't let me write anything new on the thingy, so now I'm writing it on word. I just wanted to say that again I am sorry for no updates on Oh, Bugger. I just don't know where tot a I don't know if I really like it anymore. I've been drawn into the Sirius/OC ship too, so that's taken it's toll on me and made me start a Sirius/OC fic, but not on this forum, and I don't know if I'll continue that one either since I can't seem to stay with anything for very long, hence the oneshots. Anyways, I'm not sure if I like this one, but I've been itching to write for a while, so tell me what you think. Thanks, and here it comes!

**Disclaimer:** Only own the plot.

**Bad Habits**

You had never liked him. His presence had always made you angry, even if he was innocently sitting a few seats down from you during dinner. The fact that he was naturally smarter than you drove you to near-hysteria, because you worked hard to prove everyone who doubted you that you could do it, but he had no one to prove and didn't work hard at all, but still managed to outsmart you. His hair always made your skin crawl, and you bit your tongue from making any comments about his need for a brush; his always crooked glasses made you cringe, and his loosened tie, barely buttoned, untucked shirt rolled up at the sleeves made you want to scream.

You didn't understand it. His friends acted the same, and sure, you didn't care for them either, but you didn't dissect them like you did him. You shrugged at their disheveled appearance. Their presence wasn't even acknowledged. And that made you even more so obsessed with him. You couldn't pinpoint what made him so unbearably obnoxious, and so you took it upon yourself to figure out what made him so different.

It didn't help your thought of him. The way he crinkled his nose when he laughed made you think of a toad. The way he tipped his chair back in class made you want to kick it out from under him. His calloused, Quidditch-playing hands caused you to want to buff his fingernails and soak his hands just so they'd look regular. The way his front teeth would bite down on his bottom lip when he was confused, or nervous, or thinking especially hard made you crave to glue his mouth shut, especially when he opened it and yelled something crude to you across the Great Hall.

None of this made him special though. Your best friend crinkled her nose when she laughed, and you found it endearing. Many kids you knew tipped their chairs back, but you simply pursed your lips. Everyone who played Quidditch had calloused hands, and you knew that you'd bitten your lip before in your life. So why–why on Earth did you find him so infuriating?

You didn't realize it until one day in Seventh Year. You'd been giving him a hard time, provoking him into a fight in the Head Common Room. No one was around to witness your legendary fights, but that made it all the more personal. You didn't hold back this time. You told him everything you thought of him. You told him about how you hated his crinkled nose, and the way he walked to class, and how his hand was nearly always in his hair, and how he bit his lip. You told him he was everything wrong wrapped up in a handsome looking boy and that by default he was wrong, and you hated him for it.

And then he opened his mouth and answered you, leaving you speechless. He told you that you weren't one to talk; that the way you held hands with your friends in the hall and how you smiled at practically everyone you saw except him drove him insane. He told you that you were a bad habit to him, but he couldn't seem to stop, and that he hated _you_ for it too.

You breath stopped coming or going. He stood staring at you, glaring, breathing heavy, and though nothing but angry words had ever in all your years of knowing each other passed between you, you threw yourself at him. Your lips attacked his own, and he welcomed you willingly, his arms wrapping around your waist as if it was natural for the two of you to be kissing.

It was that moment that you realized it. That he, in turn, was a bad habit to you, but just the same you couldn't stop. You'd observed him for seven years, picking apart his every flaw that kept you awake at night, but finally you knew. He was such an annoyance to you because he was nothing you wanted and absolutely everything you needed, and it drove you insane. Yet still, your hands were tangled in his hair, and his around your waist, and even with this new turn of events, he still made your skin crawl and made you want to scream. But maybe that was alright, because you were pretty sure you had the same effect on him.


End file.
